Hetalia-Worldwide Plague Outbreak

Deny Deny Deny

A loud shriek woke everyone up at 6am. Hungary jumped, France and England jolted to alert, Belarus and Russia bolted out of the cockpit to see what's happened. America lay beside Canada, holding his head and wincing. "M-my Washington, D.C." He whimpered. "I-it doesn't exist anymore," he screamed again and curled into a tighter ball. Canada's one functioning hand patted his brother's back.

"It'll only be a little while before all our capitals are erased. London will fall. Paris will fall. Moscow will fall. Budapest will fall. Minsk will fall. Washington, D.C. and Ottawa have already been wiped out of existence. America and Canada only have a little while left." Hungary's sharp voice barked. Everyone, even Hungary, had a moment of silence to go over their reality. Another scream shattered their thoughts, and Canada began to cry and whimper pitifully. He and his brother didn't have much time left.

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It was 2pm. Time for Hungary to go out and scavenge for food and supplies. Her stitches had healed over, and there was no chance of them popping anymore. She looked at the six countries behind her, waiting for her to jump out and return in an hour with supplies. The two dying brothers, their hopefully hopeless fathers, the two Russian siblings. They were lucky, Hungary thought. She wished she could have a family member of hers or even a friend to show them how devoted she was to keeping these six (and herself) alive. She wanted someone to be proud of her, to see her working hard. But nobody was there. She sighed in the slightest, she'd had this conversation with herself before. She hopped down the hatch and landed on the cold pavement of the landing pad. Surveyed the scene.

A light autumn breeze made her dusty brown hair brush across her face. Her untucked, loose tank top fluttered the slightest bit sideways under her thick leather jacket. The jacket wouldn't move with the wind, as the inside rimming was lined with 3 small knives on each of her sides. A loaded rifle was strapped to her back. There was a fully loaded Sig Sauer 38h in her hand, and another identical loaded Sig secured in her belt. She wore tight skinny jeans with a few fashionable rips in them (all the countries had gotten new clothes, as last time Belarus went out to scavenge she'd located and cleaned out an abandoned clothing store).

The breeze was chilly, and made the Hungarian shiver in the slightest as the light wind danced over the bare back of her neck. She liked the refresher though, and didn't pull up the collar of her unzipped jacket. Breezes were a reminder of all the open space out here compared to the confined space of the plane. The leather kept her nice and warm, and it was form-fitting yet cozy, and she could get around easily in it. Her jeans made it slightly harder to run, but she could still make her way around. Besides, the victims weren't exactly the fastest. They were operating on puffy, swollen, ready-to-burst, blood-streaked legs with rotted, dying flesh hanging off anyway. No, they weren't zombies. They were regular people, that'd contracted a brutal disease. They just wanted help, and to help. If they weren't going to kill Hungary, she'd let them come into the plane and give them food and water. But if she breathed too deep around them, she'd end up like them. She scanned the perimeter for any silent victims, and found none. Hungary took a few steps, her Sig raised to her cheek, ready to lower and fire at any sudden movements. She broke out into a run, jumping over long-crashed, crumpled vehicles scattered about the runway. Flipped over piles of burned metal and trash. This was what their world was now. This was how they were going to live, from now until the end of time.

Once she was away from the runway, she ran until she entered the small square just a half a kilometer from the airport in which their home-plane had landed. It wasn't exactly small, it was the heart of Moscow, so it was huge. The town was keeping them in stock. She knew there would be victims here, as it was their home. Many, many houses, shacks, apartments, and other buildings lined the streets. Homes of victims. They were all in their houses now, watching. Hungary could see some of them through their cracked windows. They'd all seen Hungary, her guns, her knives, her leather, and her intentions. They knew to stay away. If they came near, they'd get shot through the head on instant, which could be good in some victims' cases, but they stayed away anyway.